I Was Staring at the Sky
by silc
Summary: Sometimes you need to get away. Dorothy transitions from a painful life on city streets to a clean start in Stardew Valley. But leaving her past behind her might prove challenging. F/F slash. trans-positive. TW abuse, nsfw
1. Chapter 1: Promises

I squirm my toes around in my new boots. They are too big–men's, and the left one chafes my ankle. However, they were hand-me-downs and I gladly accepted the kindness. They get the job done, even if they mix with my brown skirt, flowing white top, and wide-brimmed hat to make me look like a sepia photograph of a southern belle. Only not blonde, or white, or pear-shaped. Whatever.  
The floor of the city bus rattles on the crumbly road, which sends a jolt through my leg, which I was bouncing to keep the rest of my body still. I'm not used to such uneven ground; the cities I grew up in all had perfect streets. Instead it was the people you'd find on them that might leave you shaken.  
I glance down at the package in my hand. Safe and sound. Just like it had been thirty seconds ago. Ugh. I need to calm down. Breathe. Rub my hands along the plastic lip of the chair's arm. Feel the fine bumps in the plastic and know that things are going to be better. From now on. I promise.

Half a year earlier, I had just stepped off a city bus and into a public bathroom. My scars ached in knowing sympathy as I gently bandaged a shallow cut running the left line of my jaw. I had already stopped the bleeding from my brow and my lip. Pain begets pain. I paused and rested my hands on the sink counter. Seventy-third day on the street, or first, depending on how you looked at it. Wearily I examined myself.  
Long, wavy, dark hair reached my lower chest and tangled itself in a final attempt at getting its message across: wash me! please! I took pity on my hair but knew a good shower was not to be had for a while. I moved my eyes past it apologetically. My face–puffy and dark. My skin–soft but swollen. My lips, star feature of my face, marred by a long, thin band-aid. Then, scratchiness and discomfort forced me to look away.  
Bodily harm can shake things up. My life hadn't really ever settled down, not for the past few months, but at least most of the time I hadn't been hurting. Not like this. Today, fresh pain and urgency blurred the corners of my vision. Red, the color of panic and danger and warnings and "no more!", teased my retinas and doubled my worried glances. I felt like an animal being hunted, who ran from its hunters with a tranquilizer dart in its neck. An odd lethargy set in. Maybe it was exhaustion. All I remember after cleaning myself up was leaving the bathroom with a large backpack slung over my shoulders. Flexing my hands. My claws. Sheathing and unsheathing. I remember feeling dangerous and ancient and hidden. I felt like a sphinx prowling along the corridor of a crypt. I don't remember passing by anyone, but looking back I know the streets couldn't have been empty at that hour. I don't remember falling asleep curled like a big cat on a city bench. I don't remember dreaming.  
The next morning I woke slowly. Everything ached. Someone was nudging my arm. Wait. No. I open my eyes. Someone is nudging my arm. "I think this is your stop," creaks the old man next to me, pointing to the words printed in bold on the ticket in my hand: PELICAN TOWN. I blink a few times to lift myself from the memory.  
"Thank you," I say gently to my neighborly passenger as I rise and collect my things from under my seat. He nods at me and returns to his book. I make my way to the front of the bus, thank the driver, and step out to see my new life.

My new life looks... green. It's Spring, sure, but you'd never really notice that in the city. You only notice when it's too hot or too cold there. But here, a crisp breeze blows hair into my face and everything around me is verdant. I breathe the country air in and I'm not sure what to make of it. I feel free, but a little aimless.  
The bus drives off as I make my way down a dirt and gravel path, clomping along in my gifted shoes. A sign guides me East at a crossroads and I only have to walk a few minutes before I pass into a clearing paved in cobblestone. And here I am, finally. Pelican Town. Stardew Valley. My new start.  
I only wander about a block before a mustached man turns a corner to face me. His eyes light up when he sees me, although we've never met before. He hurries towards me and reaches out his hand, which I tentatively shake.  
"Well good afternoon, miss! You must be Dorothy. I've heard so much about you. My name's Lewis, and I'm the mayor of this beautiful town. I'm so glad you're going to be staying with us!"  
The mayor knows? I thought only the town doctor was contacted about my new residence. Does word just travel fast here? Is the town really that small?  
Before I can get too worried about small-town gossip, Lewis starts walking me back down the path I took to town, and starts to clarify the situation, even though I never asked him about it.  
"This is the way to your new home, Dorothy. I'll show you around a bit and help you get settled in if you need, and then you might want to stop by town again and get introduced to your new neighbors! That big building we just passed by was the general store where you'll want to buy supplies, and to your right is the clinic.  
"The house you're staying in hasn't seen your grandfather in quite a few years, so it's a bit run-down. If you need any work done on it, just ask Robin up in the North end of town? She'll help you out."  
Grandfather? Oh, he must mean Mr. Sampson. I didn't know the house I was receiving was his own. I hold back a surprised tear as Lewis leads me to my new home. Mr. Sampson's house... I'm not sure what to feel. I know I don't deserve it, but I can hear his voice in the back of my head, "some things are just given. You don't need to improve for them. They're not for you once you think you deserve them, they're for you now."

Half a year earlier, I woke up from my slumber on a city bench. The air was cool, but not cold. I ached, and only after I finished stretching and yawning did I realize that I had a visitor. An elderly woman sat a few feet down from me, and she smiled when I met her eye.  
"Good morning, pet. It seems you need a place to stay, no?"  
I didn't know how to respond. It was too early and my mind was reeling from the past few days' events.  
"Lucky for you, pet, I work at the city's best shelter, and we have an open space with your name on it, if you'd like." She stood and beckoned for me to follow her. Looking back, I see how impulsive I was being; blindly following anyone is dangerous. But I was lucky, and for me it worked out.  
"Oh, pet, I think we can help you."

She took me on a walk which felt like forever. It was only a few blocks, of course. But we moved slow. Finally, we arrived at a squat, blue building. Two stories, one like a motel and the other like an office. She guided me inside and gestured me into a waiting room. The walls were covered in graffiti but we were the only people there. I sat tentatively as she knocked on an imposing oak door at the end of the room.

She turned the handle gently and opened it a crack. Whispered a word to whomever was inside. Waited. I pressed my hands into the chairs' rough upholstery. I felt the ridges of the fabric.

"He'll be coming in to see you, then," the woman said through the door. I looked up at this.

"Not 'he'," I muttered.

"What was that, pet?" She turned to me and tilted her head for a moment. Maybe she saw the look in my eyes and read me well, or maybe she just registered what I said. "Oh! That's okay, we can help you with that if you need, too."

Grateful but confused, I rose and stepped quietly through the door, which she opened. Inside, I was greeted by a dark room with bluish floral wallpaper. The blinds were closed over a single window and lazy sunlight shone around the edges. A man sat in his bed, propped up slightly by pillows. He didn't look too old, but the setting made him feel ancient.

After a moment of silence, I was uncharacteristically the first one to speak.

"Who are you?" Ouch. Rude. Not a great start.

The man didn't seem to mind, luckily. "A philanthropist," he replied slowly and carefully, "and a caretaker."

"And who are you?" He shifted in bed slightly.

Oh. I should have known it was coming, but I didn't know what to say.

"I'm nobody."

"That can't be true."

I didn't reply.

"Well, then tell me about you," he prompted. "I can hardly see. Do you have a good face?"

"No," I replied truthfully.

"Do you have a good heart?"

"Not always."

He laughed at that. "You're honest! See, I'm learning about you."

There was a pause, but it felt warmer than before. I straightened up a little.

"Do you have a good reason? For coming here?" This took me off guard. What could I possibly say? Was I supposed to convince him to help me?

"I don't know. That woman brought me here."

He smiled a little. "She's a good woman. And so are you, from the sound of it."

How? It didn't matter. I blushed hard and felt a pang of something in my stomach. Excitement? Surprise? Gratitude? A little of each.

"You don't need a reason, you know. And even if you have one, you needn't tell me. You could use help, and I can be that help. Some things are just given. You don't need to improve for them. They're not for you once you think you deserve them, they're for you now."

I pondered this but before the silence drew on, he spoke again. His tone was much stronger, confident. "You may call me Mr. Sampson, or just Sampson, if you wish." He reached out his hand with more energy I thought possible from the feeble man.

I took it and we shook hands gently. "Dorothy," I introduced myself.

"Dorothy, my dear, you must be in dire need of a change."

"Here it is, missy," Lewis announces as he nods at the building. Small, of worn wood and stone. Calling it a shack would be rude, but calling it nice would be lying. It was a house. Nothing more. It would do. However, I couldn't believe Mr. Sampson used to live here.

"This is the cabin. The whole four acres in this clearing are yours. Your grandpa's old house was about an eighth mile over, but it burned down a few years after he returned to the city. Not that long ago at all, actually. Anyways, he owned this land and I'm glad it's being returned to someone he trusted."

I thank Lewis and we walk to the door. I fumble with the package I've been clinging to for the past six hours, but manage to extract the door key and let us in.

The place is dark, with three windows, one boarded over. The wood creaks underfoot and dust floats through the air. A small door leads to an attic but otherwise, it's essentially a single room.

"It'll take some work, but I think you'll fit in here," Mayor Lewis tells me chipperly. An optimist, it seems. I could learn a thing or two from him.

After a few minutes of settling in, Lewis wishes me luck and takes his leave. I am alone again. I run my hands along the bedding. It's cheap but new, and isn't dusty. Someone must have given me a gift for my first night. Which is close now, I realize. It's already 4. Time flies in this town.

I put away all of my stuff and examine the house. A TV, bed, fireplace. A few tools leaning against the wall near the door. I set my singular luggage at the foot of the bed and step away. I can do this.

I step outside and examine the messy land. Four acres, huh? That's four acres more than I know what to do with. Four acres more than I've ever had before. I can do this.

As the sun droops over the cool Spring day, I walk to town. I can do this. I'll make this work out. Things will be better from now on. I promise.


	2. Chapter 2: Maybes

The first few days of my life in Stardew Valley pass without incident. I meet Willy, a lovely older man who teaches me to fish. I buy seeds from Pierre's general store and meet Pierre, who runs the place. I do not feel settled, and everything still seems like a vacation, a fluke. Like I moved in accidentally.

Saturday arrives, and I stop by the clinic to pick up my prescriptions. I'm not quite sure how my health plan works because Mr. Sampson's shelter took care of a lot of the management for me, thankfully, but I do know that they passed along my requirements to the doctor in town and that I'm out of antidepressants. Living in the country is meant to be therapeutic, but it can't do everything. So I make my way into town. On the way, I find some flowers and berries, which I put in my bag. The natural beauty of the valley is remarkable, but I've been reacting oddly to it. I feel like the little things that catch my eye are fleeting so I do my best to collect them and take them with me. Freud probably has some deep and subconscious explanations for my actions, but I'm no psychologist so I don't care.

I reach that cobblestoned clearing and turn left to the unassuming storefront built into the side of Pierre's. The white add-on appears to be leaning against the main store for support, which is an interesting architectural decision in my opinion. I hope it's structurally sound, because if the one place in town that can provide people with medical help were to fall down it'd be damn ironic. I enter the building through squeaky glass doors. Not the sliding kind. And, as no one is at the front counter, I take a seat.

I'm not the only one there, however. Someone is in front of me in line. It's a brown-haired man in his early twenties, probably, clad in a worn fleece jacket. The scruff on his chin ages him, but under it all he's got quite a good face. He's been reading something on his phone, without even looking up at me this whole time.

I sit at the other end of the waiting room across from jacket-boy, which is to say three seats away. It's a small office. We sit in silence for a moment, save for the ticking of a clock on the wall. It's an analog clock, which I could never get the hang of. Adding numbers in terms of bits of a circle is officially too confusing for me. Math was never my strong suit. The clock ticking grows louder in my head rapidly, so I fill the silence.

"Hey there! I'm new in town, sorry. My name's Dorothy." I smile at the man and use my sweetest, most sincere voice. Really laying it on him.

"Oh, what? Hey. Hi." He hardly looks up from his phone.

That wasn't quite what I expected. Everyone in this town has been quite amiable up till this point. "What's your name?" I ask him, quieter and more hesitant this time.

"Shane," he pauses and sighs, but his expression doesn't change any. "Nice to meet you." I get a quick glance this time before he returns to his screen.

Before I can awkwardly drive this conversation further, a door opens from behind the front desk. A man walks out wearing glasses and holding an armful of bottles, papers, and equipment, which he immediately begins to pile around his desk. "Here are your prescriptions, Shane. And if you would please sign this paper and pay the surcharge, then you're good to go," he says. Shane rises and strides over to the counter. I see a bottle of antidepressants on the table next to him. Ha! I'll have what he's having, doc. I half-smile as I think the line. I consider using it, just strutting across the room and doing my best to seem like the kind of person who would never in a million years be depressed. I decide against it. I've never been very good at jokes.

I blink and realise that Shane is gone, and I'm just sitting in the room with a small-town pharmacist waiting for me expectantly. I go up to the counter and slide across my prescription. I introduce myself and see a nameplate revealing the bespectacled man to be Harvey, the town doctor. Dr. Harvey has brown hair a few shades lighter than Shane's which was almost black, and a small mustache. He looks quite dapper.

Harvey is much more polite than Shane, but he's very businesslike, and something about the way he types patient data into his boxy old desktop reminds me of the city, and of people I left.

Mr. Sampson's hands were old and veiny, but they were firm, and never quavered even when he was dying. He seemed proud of them, and he relied on them to supplement his lacking eyesight.

I met with him one morning a few months after he took me in, or his charity did, I should say. It's not like I was adopted or anything. I was nineteen, which as everyone knows is an age people spend acting like adults. That was sarcasm, by the way. Like I said, I'm not good at jokes.

The morning was warm. The windows were open and a summer breeze pooled into Sampson's room and made it feel like we lived in the country, not one of the busiest metropolises in the Ferngill Republic. I had been with the shelter for a few weeks now, and Sampson had become quite the comfort. The old man had a calming presence.

I don't remember why I had come to see him, nor the beginning of our conversation. My memory sharpens and words come to focus at his words, "you have been with us for a while now, my dear."

"Yeah."

"And I remember the start, when I got to know you. I asked you about your face and your heart. I know it probably seemed imposing, like I was testing you. But I was not."

I wasn't sure what to reply, so I just nodded and muttered my agreement.

"You said that neither were particularly beautiful, and I am not here to argue with you about that. I know all you have showed me of your character, but only that which a small amount of time can portray. I will not contradict your self-image. However, I realize that the way I asked you about these features may have seemed limiting. This was not my intent."

I had no idea what he was talking about, but I paid attention. I didn't want to miss anything.

"'Ugly' is a largely meaningless word, yet beauty can be found anywhere. In anyone. If you lack a beautiful face or heart, perhaps you have beautiful hands."

There was a pause.

He clarified. "Know that what you don't always feel in the mirror or in your emotions, you may find in your actions. I certainly do."

I remember his smile, warm with the air in the room. I don't remember what he said after, or what I may have replied. I just remember the advice. I kept it in my mind like an inspirational poster a disgruntled PE teacher might hang in their office. I tried to focus on it when things turned for the worse, when my med bills hit hard, when I looked at the scars from my surgeries, when Sampson died.

My hands can be beautiful. They can do beautiful things.

Currently, my hands are full. I am standing on cobblestone. The clinic is behind me.

I spaced out a bit there.

Shaking my head clear of daydreams, I start to walk home. Before I reach the dirt path, I feel a pang of loneliness. My big trip into town involves one stop. I realize how few people I know in town. I realize how alien this place is. My feet trudge across the spring earth and take me to my house. Not quite a home. I know there's a difference but I don't know what it is. I take one letter from my mailbox, unlock my door and step inside, unloading my bag of paper and pill bottles onto a small doorside table.

Maybe Sampson's words are more apt than I thought, I think to myself as I open the letter, which isn't signed or stamped on the envelope. Maybe the difference between a house and a home is what I make of the place. Maybe I need to let my hands make it beautiful. Maybe.

Inside the envelope is a small note, handwritten by the looks of it. I lean against the rough wood wall as I read it.

It's from Mayor Lewis, and he's reminding me of an event in town. I appreciate the reminder as I had no idea this was going on. The egg festival, just a few days from now. Huh.

Maybe I'll get more settled in at the festival! God, I have no idea how small town things like this work. Should I dress up?

Before I get worked up by the mere concept of a social life, I pause and get some water. No need to panic. It'll be fine. You'll meet some people. Maybe some will like you.

Maybe.


	3. Chapter 3: Moves

I wake up earlier than the country. The sky is still dark and the animals outside are quiet. I am quiet too, as I eat some granola and then make the most of the cabin's meager facilities. The tiny shower startles me out of my monotonous semi-consciousness and I actually let out a squeak at the weak stream of hot water. Blearily I manage to wash myself, shave my legs, and dry my hair. I exit the bathroom with a towel around my torso and a yawn on my face. I stretch and touch the low ceiling.

The stretch is ended abruptly by a knocking. I look around, confused as to who could possibly be here when the sun wasn't even up yet. Confused that I had a visitor at all.

I discover the culprit; a small bird perched on my porch raps on my window with its beak. She must want my half-eaten bowl of granola. I laugh and she flies off. The predawn light is cozy and lures me back towards my bed, but I'm committed. Today is the egg festival and I'm excited.

Back in the city, there weren't many festivals or anything. Someone would get mad if anything seemed too religious, so that would never fly, and anything else would be too difficult for traffic. There were a few protests though.

I sit and think about the skyscrapers and smog I left behind as I finish off my granola, crunchily. I sit back in a rickety chair by the window and watch the land.

I watch the sunrise. Sunrises in the city were beautiful too, in their own way, with beautiful reds and oranges and pinks, but the sunrise out here where the sky is clearer feels different. It feels like an opportunity. I get dressed and leave the house.

I put on a nice floral maxi skirt and slip a white tank top over my bra. I have some gardening to do before the festival starts and I hope it'll keep me from getting overexcited. I put on the hat I wore my first day in town.

I step out of my house and slip into some worn sandals. I get dusty but manage not to spill or smear anything on myself while watering and tending to my plants. It's not a farm, per say, but it is blossoming into a pretty nice garden. Plenty of potatoes, some beans, cauliflower, and a patch of tulips. I hesitate to say I'm proud of it, but it's a start.

It's nine. I dust off and take one last look around the place before heading into town. Content.

By the time I get to town, it looks like things are already going. The first things I see are two long tables set up in the square, loaded with various springtime foods. There's tables and chairs for eating set up, but nobody really seems to be sitting at them. There's a huge sheet laid out at the other end of the clearing and it seems like the entire town is here. Plenty of unfamiliar faces. I take a deep breath and don't let it overwhelm me.

I take a right at the tables and almost run directly into Shane. He looks tired, but he looked tired the last time I saw him too. Maybe that's just his face. He seems to have shaved since I last saw him, though, and he looks pretty good. His clothes aren't worn and his hair is combed, versus the last time we spoke. He's… pretty hot.

"Oh, hey Shane." I give him a smile and keep my voice warm. "How's it going?"

"Hey," he replies with his mouth half-full of something from the cheese platter. "Things are fine. I got off work today."

"Well, that sounds good. Where do you work?"

"At the Joja Mart." His voice is venomous and I get the vibe that this guy is not a fan of his job. He gestures to the other end of the town. "Over there."

"Oh! Maybe I'll stop by and see you sometime."

"Don't bother." He sets back to prepping himself some food.

I falter at the rudeness. "O-oh. Okay, sorry." Shit. This is bad. Abort mission. I duck past him and head towards the center of the festivities. I'm walking exactly like someone who just got out of an awkward scenario should, one arm straight down, the other reaching across my front and holding it down as to keep me from making any gestures of exasperation. I look worried and shy. No amount of willpower will make me look confident again until I get over the first interaction of my day being a flop.

My worrying is cut short by someone to my right grabbing my attention. A chipper voice, exactly one you would expect to hear at an event called an Egg Festival. "Hey! I haven't seen you around before. You're the new girl, right, staying at Sampson's old farm?"

The voice in question belongs to a short woman about my age, with brown skin and chin-length dark hair. She's wearing some subtle makeup and blue overalls over a white tee. The outfit gives the impression of either a painter or a mechanic, but dressed up for the occasion. Standing next to her is a woman whose defining trait is her mousiness. Short and prim and pale and shy, with her hair done up and her hands clasped in front of her. Her friend looks at me expectantly.

"Oh. Uh, yeah. I'm Dorothy. Thanks."

"It's great to meet you, Dorothy. I'm Maru. My mom owns the carpenter's shop? And this is my friend Penny. She lives over by the river."

Penny reddens for some reason, but she gives me a little wave. "Nice to meet you."

I feel an awkward pause coming on, as Maru's taking a sip of her drink and neither Penny nor I are particularly talkative. However a voice pipes in behind me.

"Hello, girls! How are things going?" It's Mayor Lewis. I turn and he's ambling over to us, grinning.

Two "good"s, and one "well" from Penny. The reaction he expected. Lewis gestures to the tables. "Make sure you get something to eat before the festivities. The egg hunt looks particularly rigorous this year and I want everyone to be fighting fit! Will any of you be taking part?"

Penny says she wasn't and I take her lead. "Uh, no thank you sir."

"Aw come on, it'll be fun," insists Maru. "I'm in, Lewis."

"Excellent! We're starting in just a few minutes," Mayor Lewis calls as he turns away to recruit other egg sleuths.

I feel a hand on my arm and I turn to face Maru. "You should really do the egg hunt. There's prizes." She quirks her eyebrow to emphasize the promised rewards. "Plus, maybe you'll beat Abigail. She wins every year."

"N-no, I think I'm good." I scratch the back of my head in embarrassment. Please. I don't want to do this. I don't want to run around in front of the whole town. Mostly, I don't want to seem childish.

A blonde guy begins to approach the three of us, hair spiked. He doesn't pay me any attention, and before he gets too close he beckons Penny over to where he was standing with two of his friends. One, a young guy with black hair and the whole emo look going on, although he was just hanging out with his friends like everyone else, so he can't be THAT emo. The other, a tallish girl with blue dyed hair. Penny nods her farewell and heads over to the other group, and now it's just Maru and me, standing at the edge of the party under a green oak tree.

"So," Maru says between sips of her drink, which I assume is some sort of fruit punch, "what's living on a farm like? I know that probably sounds weird seeing as I've lived out in the country all my life, but I've honestly never worked a farm a day in my life."

"Oh, I hardly have a farm. Uh, it's more like a shack with a garden. I don't quite know what I'm doing yet, haha. Oh–but it's a really nice town! I like it a lot here and..." I fade out because I'm rambling. Keep it short! Don't talk yourself into a corner. Don't make yourself look like an idiot.

"If your house is really a shack, which I hardly believe, you can talk to my mom and see if she can help at all! I mentioned that she's the town carpenter. But yeah, I'll bet your house is nice if you live there!"

"Haha, thanks. Um, do you live with your mom?"

"Oh, yeah! We're up by the mountain. My dad Demetrius, my brother Sebastian who's over there, and my mom and me! It's a pretty nice place." She grins and also points at her brother, whom I discover to be the emo boy over with Penny. There is not much familial resemblance there, but before I can think of how to say so, Maru continues.

"Yeah he doesn't look much like my brother, does he? Doesn't act like it usually either. Ha, yeah he's my half-brother. My mom was married before." Maru has been quite perky up till this point, but the topic is pretty sensitive for someone she just met. She takes a sip. I still cannot figure out what her beverage actually is.

"Mm! Hey, have you tried Gus's spring cider? It's actually really good, here." She hands me her drink, and I take it, surprised at the offer. There's some lipstic on the side and the glass is half empty. I taste a small amount, and confirm Maru's assertion. The stuff is tangy and fruity. It tastes fresh and not of apples, leaving me confused about its contents. Maru takes her glass back and leans back against the tree, right next to me. I shift right a little so we're both facing the crowd.

"How're you liking it here?" Maru asks, more quietly than before, "like really. You don't have to flatter me. I want to know what it's like for someone from out of town."

"I'm… really grateful to be here. The town is beautiful, more beautiful than anything where I'm from. But I haven't seen a lot of it yet."

"Yeah, you haven't." When did we get this close? Our voices are low and our arms are almost touching. "So, 'where you're from,' huh? Where is that?"

"Oh, I moved in from the city, not that far north."

"Yeah? Why'd you leave?"

I pause and look at her. Slumped against the tree, I go from just a bit taller to almost half a foot, and I find myself looking down. She returns the stare, and the eye contact is piercing.

"On, uh, I… I guess I just needed a change…"

"Did s-" Maru's question is cut short by Mayor Lewis clanging a cowbell in the town square, and calling out, "All right, everybody! The egg hunt is about to begin! Will all contestants please group up in the square with me."

"Oh! Here it is! Well, if you're not gonna join in, then wish me luck, ok? And feel free to finish this," Maru says as she pushes her glass back into my hands. "Thanks, hun!" And like that, she grinned and bounded over towards Lewis.

I stand there for a second, the warm breeze rustling the new growths and green leaves of the oak overhead. Then I take a sip of the cider and lean my side against the tree trunk. Some of Maru's lipstick gets on my lips secondhand, and I blush when I notice. But the day is warm, and the drink is good, and no one notices me.


	4. Chapter 4: Cavern

It's a chilly day, with light winds folding me over into a hunched stride, arms wrapped around my torso. I'm not too far from home, where warmer outerwear beckons, but I'm stubborn and press on instead. I'm in town by the general store again. There's a set of stairs to its side which I've never taken before. I ascend them, noting the wear and moss—thick green growth reaches over edges and fills corners, but frequent footsteps have made a broad path of smooth stone. Reaching the top reveals another pleasant clearing, and I face a building in disarray. A stopped clock resides above the door. Next to it reads "Pelican Town" in cracked and faded paint under the eaves. A decaying awning covers a broad, imposing entrance with shadow. It's definitely locked. To its left is a small playground with children's big toys, and continuing counterclockwise in this order is an empty fountain surrounded by wooden benches. Overall it looks lovely, but no one's around.

I follow the path along the low cliff past the large building and through some foliage. Spring dew is everywhere, which seems apropos. It's not called Stardew Valley for nothing, although the notable night skies are something I have yet to go watch. I wonder how it looks out here, without the light and the fog and the glare of the city to bog it down. I'll bet it's beautiful.

As I'm thinking this, I see a telescope. Not, like, metaphorically or anything. I just come across a large house with a picture of a saw over the door, and to the left of the door is a fence with open gate revealing a telescope, pointed towards the heavens. And I see a hand in motion as it is withdrawn from a knob on the side and disappears behind the fence.

Rubbing my hands with my arms, I feel the warmth of my skin and brush against the coarse fabric of my sleeve. I can't help but be intrigued. Superstition follows me around sometimes, especially when I'm alone. I find it hard to believe in coincidences. So, I deviate from the dirt path a bit to get a better view. It's a little side yard, with an equally small wooden door leading to some sort of back room in the carpentry shop, it seems. And within its fence is Maru, wearing a smudged pair of overalls with her deep brown hair tied back, holding a small cloth and doing… something to the telescope.

"Oh, hi!" I call to her. Or, I try to; my early morning voice cracks immediately and it's more of a squeak followed by a low mutter. Shit. Shit. Bad. I cough and Maru looks up.

"Hey there," she greets me cheerily with a tone of surprise, "How's it going, Dorothy? Didn't know I'd see you up here this soon! My parents haven't even opened the shop yet. What are you doing up so early?"

"Well, I heard there was some sort of work… to be done over in this area somewhere? By the mountain?" I fumble through my pockets for proof; a small, handwritten note left on the bulletin outside Pierre's store. In uneven font, it reads, "Adventurers Wanted! The Bravest And The Most Daring Welcome! Report To: Adventurer's Guild At Mountain Lake" And in someone else's handwriting, a reply reads, "don't quit your day job."

Maru comes close to read the flyer, and I hand it to her. The feel of the worn paper gently tugged from my fingers is calming, and my shoulders settle. I hadn't realized how tense they were.

"Adventure, huh? That sounds like Marlin, across the lake. He looks like an adventurer, you know? Well, that must just be the eyepatch. Or the cape. He's an interesting guy."

"I've never met him."

"Yeah, I wouldn't expect so. He's reclusive but I think he's friends with Mayor Lewis. He likes to hang at the back of town gatherings and… I don't even know. Pretend to be Batman or something."

We both laugh and Maru hands me back the paper. She smiles so brightly for 7am. It's warm in a very different way than the sun, but it feels just as good to stand in its rays.

I blink hard and try not to focus on small things, sweet things, things that could happen but probably won't so why even think about them! Instead, I focus on the paper in my hands again.

The pause after we finished laughing weighs down my spirits for a moment. I can never think of anything interesting to say. I stutter, "I-I'd best be going…"

"Yeah! Of course. Good luck with Marlin, and good luck with your adventure. Sounds ominous."

"I will, thanks." I flash my prize-winning smile and she turns back to her telescope. Actually… that went well. I hope I see her more; she'd be a good friend.

I trudge through the tall grass around the lake.

Fifteen minutes later, I'm brandishing a sword and in a cave. Like in one of those old movies where the rocks are all foam and the monsters are claymation. I feel like a fucking argonaut and I'm not quite sure what I'm doing and Marlin seems to be wrapping up his speech. I'll summarize all of it that I payed attention to:

"Adventure is still alive in this day and age, I assure you! This era of the internet and satellites and apps that get food delivered to you by strangers did its best to vanquish the spirit of adventure, but adventure lived on! Not outwards… blah blah blah hidden places blah blah secrets behind every door blah blah an inquisitive mind blah blah preparation for adventure is what sets the adventurer apart from the lost soul blah blah it's dangerous to go alone here take this blah blah blah blah good luck!"

And here I am. My mission? Get rid of some monsters because we have those here, apparently. Some slimes. Five, to be precise. And I get some money for it. Not a bad gig, if you ask me.

Almost as soon as Marlon exits through the elevator, I hear something from the other end of the cabin that sounds distinctly like something oozing its way across the ground. I ready my blade.

The next few hours I spend exploring the mines and smacking sentient piles of pudding. It's not necessarily exciting, but it feels good. I feel like somebody who can do something. Not the new girl in town, not a lost soul, but somebody with a strong right swing and an eye like a magpie. By afternoon I am exiting through the elevator with a mental map of the mine's underground passages, a pouch filled with curios, and a sword dripping with goo. The three signs of a productive day, if you ask me.

I walk back towards town to claim my reward, get some food, and clean off. I pass the carpentry shop but decide not to stop by, noting the scuffs, dirt, sweat. Maybe when I've washed up. I pass that building again, next to the playground. It still feels cold, but the day has warmed up considerably around it. Summer is coming, I can feel. The sky is wide and adventure could be just around the corner.


End file.
